Honor's Pride
by Sea Dragon Dreamer
Summary: Maria Alvarez is back on the Northwestern for the King Crab season, but when she meets their new cameraman, tempers flair as honor and pride are challenged. Sequal to Honor's Truth. A Deadliest Catch story.
1. Chapter 1

"Den sønderrev er nuværende gjennom Januar. Jeg trenger noen til vård for leilighet inntil vi får tilbake. Vennligst, fru Tylden." _The rent is current through January. I need someone to care for the apartment until we get back. Please, Mrs. Tylden. _Maria Alvarez spoke in halting Norwegian to her elderly neighbor. An insistent honking outside her apartment building brought Maria's head out the open window. She grinned and returned her boyfriend's wave.

"I'm coming, Jake! I'll be down in a minute." Stepping away from the window, she turned back to Mrs. Tylden. A blush rose in her cheeks when she saw the knowing look in Mrs. Tylden's expression. The grandmotherly woman patted Maria's cheek and nodded her agreement.

" Ja, jeg vil vård for eders leilighet. Du omsorg for eders fiskere, og, Gud villige, komme tilbake trygt." _Yes, I will care for your apartment. You care for your fishermen, and, God willing, come back safe._ Maria grinned and wrapped her arms around Mrs. Tylden in an energetic hug. The old woman laughed and shooed Maria out the front door, accepting the hastily offered spare key with a grin. Waiting at the window, she waved her farewell to her neighbor and friend.

Maria returned the wave before climbing into the back of Nick Mavar's car. She buckled and began fidgeting with the ends of her long black hair. She met Jake's eager grin as he twisted around in his seat. Nick glanced at the rearview mirror and laughed.

"You're looking good. God, your hair's so long now." Jake's grin broadened as hers faltered, laughter in his voice as he continued, "I like it long. It's beautiful now." Maria shot him a scathing look and dropped her hands to her lap.

"Oh and like it was ugly before, Jacob Anderson. Thanks, I appreciate that." She couldn't keep the smile from her voice and Jake giggled as he turned back around. She saw Nick rolling his eyes with a smile.

"That's enough you two. You have all season to bicker." Maria's smile grew again and she turned to watch the scenery change on their way to the docks. After Nick parked and locked the car, Maria hesitated as Nick and Jake walked away. Jake started to say something, but turned when he realized Maria wasn't beside him. He waited for her to catch up while Nick went on ahead.

"You're not having second thoughts again, are you?"

"Mmm? No, it's just…never mind. We'd better hurry. The Captain won't be happy if we're late." Her laugh faltered when Jake didn't join in.

"Jake, what's wrong?" Her worried frown deepened when he winced at her question. Pausing at the _Northwestern_'s gangplank, Jake faced her and tried to meet her insistent gaze.

"You remember Peter from last season?"

"The stupid cameraman that pissed off everyone, even Nick?"

"Yup, that's the guy."

"Don't tell me Stupid's back…" The look of disbelief on Maria's face broke the tension in Jake's stance and he laughed.

"No, he's not back. Thing is, our new camera guy's _worse_ than Peter. I don't mean he's stupider than Peter was." Casting a glance over his right shoulder, Jake grimaced and flopped his hands at his side in a helpless gesture. "Sig wants to be the one to talk to you about this new guy. Apparently he's pretty wound up about the guy."

"Wait, what do you mean by 'wound up'? Are we talking bad weather and worse fishing wound up or getting threats from Mauricio wound up?"

"He wasn't wound up over Mauricio…he was furious. Okay, yeah, I know what you meant. It's worse than the bad fishing, but not quite Mauricio level yet. Either way, it's not very good." Maria pulled a face at Jake's explanation and followed him aboard, suppressing a shiver as she recalled her first moments aboard the boat.

While Jake entered through the ready room hatch, Maria ascended the outside ladders and knocked on the door behind Sig's chair. The balding skipper looked up from the paper charts spread before him and waved her in. Motioning to the chair in front of her, he took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket.

"Take a seat, Fish, this is gonna suck" He waited until Maria swiveled around to face him before continuing. "We have a new cameraman on this season, a guy named Quinn. I met him a couple days ago, and he doesn't seem too happy that you're one of the crew. He knows that if you or the crew thinks he crosses the line, he's gone. What I need from you is to be honest with me. Even if he so much as _toes_ the line with you I want him gone. Understand?"

"What do you mean 'he doesn't seem happy'? Did he owe Mauricio money or something?"

Sig grimaced at the mention of Maria's dead brother and Maria mentally smacked herself. Sig shook his head and reached around her to grab the half empty pack of cigarettes and lighter. Lighting up, he glared out the starboard window.

"I mean he doesn't like Mexicans, and he really doesn't like the idea of female fishermen Now that he's stuck on a boat with both all rolled into one sarcastic bundle, he's kinda itching for a fight. Do _not_ do anything to give him that fight…'cause you'd _both_ be looking for a new job." Nodding her understanding, Maria turned her head to study the view off the bow; a small smile flitted around her lips as a thought occurred to her. A heartbeat's silence passed before Sig's voice broke through her thoughts.

"What is it?"

"Well, _he'd_ have to swim home first before looking for that new job." Sig rolled his eyes and smiled. He studied Maria a moment, waiting expectantly for her to finish, which she did after another heartbeat of silence. "If I were a man, you'd be telling me and Quinn to get over it and get back to work. Huh, even halfway through _last_ season, you were telling me and Peter to get over ourselves. Why the sudden protectiveness now?" Her head whipped around at Sig's scoff.

"Because I like you now, that's _why_. Besides, Peter was just a stupid pain in the ass. Quinn's a smart bastard. I'm not sure what he'll do to get under your skin. Just watch yourself, alright?" He smiled at Maria's nodded agreement before shooing her out of his wheelhouse; the moment she was gone, his smile fell and he heaved a heavy sigh. _I shoulda just demanded a different camera guy._

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><p>Two weeks later, Maria found herself shooting another exasperated look at Jake as she helped to secure the pots on the stack Quinn had been assigned to mount the outside stationary cameras and was nitpicking Edgar's brain on exactly where the second camera could go.<p>

"For the last time, it goes _there_, you fucking dumbass!" Edgar's sudden shout brought Jake's head around so quickly the young man lost his balance. Maria quickly grabbed the front of his hoodie and raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question. Silently, he shook his head and returned his focus to the pot Norman was swinging their way.

"Guess I'm not the only one Quinn's got on his 'must annoy' list…" Maria muttered to Jake, who simply shrugged and rolled his eyes as he guided the pot down.

"_Pick up the pace guys! I want those pots on in the next three hours!"_ Sig's voice echoed over the loudhailer.

"Roger!" Maria and Jake hollered in unison, sharing a grin as they worked faster. Three hours and ten minutes later, the pair secured the final chain across the stack and made their way inside. Maria secured the hatch and slid in behind the galley table next to Matt, silently smiling her thanks as Jake passed her a mug of coffee. Sig and Quinn's raised voices carried down the staircase and Maria glanced at Mark.

"No offense Mark, but can't we trade him for a different guy?" Mark breathed a laugh, rolling his eyes at his camera gear spread over the table.

"I wish we could…believe me, Fish, I've tried. But right now there isn't enough time to get a new guy flown out here and trained before we head out. We're stuck with Quinn until the first offload." He shrugged, sympathetic to his friends' discomfort before turning back to his gear. They sat in silence, listening to the voices going back and forth.

"I swear, if he pisses me off one more time, I'm shoving him over the side in his underwear." Matt grumbled darkly and Maria snorted darkly into her coffee.

"That's if I don't get to him first," she and Edgar said at the same time. Everyone laughed, falling silent and finding Mark's work more fascinating than normal when Quinn appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Casting as suspicious look over the group, he disappeared down the ready room hallway. Six bodies flinched as the hatch slammed loudly against it's doorframe, Edgar gritting his teeth against vehement Norwegian curses aimed at the deck side cameraman.

Maria glanced up at the painting of the old man praying over a loaf of bread and closed her eyes, sending up a prayer of her own. _Please help us live with Quinn…we're going to need all the help we can get!_

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><p><strong><em>AN: So here's the long awaited for sequal (by some) to Honor's Truth. It took me some time to figure out the basic plot, sorry about that, but I at least have the main conflict and resolution plotted out. Yes, I do realize the Norweigain translation may not be exact, but I hope y'all get the gist of what I'm trying to accomplish. _**

**_Again, any and all real people, places and things are owned by themselves, establishers and their owners. The only things I claim are the fictional characters and creative lisence to use and abuse all characters/places/things for the sake of very good (hopefully) storytelling._**

**_As with my other stories, constructive criticsm is always welcomed with open mind and arms. Remember: I'm writing this for YOUR enjoyment!_**

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><p><strong>Copyright 2011 by Alissa Franko<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

"_A long time ago, under the memories of sand and stars…"_ Maria sang softly, mostly to herself, her voice dipping and rising in a high alto. She sang in Spanish, keeping her eyes on the meal she was preparing. Three minutes later, the song finished and she continued moving around the kitchen in silence.

"So, what kind of song was that?" Quinn's Irish accented question broke the comfortable silence and Maria flinched.

"One _Abuelo_ used to sing to me after my evening prayers before he died."

"What kind of mumbo jumbo did…all that mean? Not all of us understand… Spanish, y'know." The pause in Quinn's question set Maria's teeth on edge, and she glared angrily at Norman as she dumped scrambled eggs onto a large plate. Norman's returned glance held a warning and she fought back a sneer. Taking a calming breath, Maria answered Quinn.

"The song talks about finding your way home, and remembering where you come from. 'A long time ago, under the memories of sand and stars'. That's from when _Abuelo_'s grandmother was a little girl and the nights they crossed the desert into Texas; only back then it wasn't Texas yet, it was still part of Mexico. His great-grandmother sang it to his grandmother every night after their evening prayers, and the tradition continued."

Quinn was silent as he stared through the viewfinder at the young woman stalking around the galley, setting the table. He hated to admit it, but over the last three days, she was keeping up with her bigger, stronger crewmates better than he gave her credit for. Several acidic cracks against Maria's great-great-grandmother stung at the tip of his tongue but he swallowed them back, searching in vain for something nice to say. Heartbeats counted out the moments before he could settle on something vaguely resembling decency.

"But if they were leaving Mexico, why would you - er, they - want to remember how to get back, much less the place they left?" Maria's growled scoff grated along his spine and he rolled his shoulders against the sensation.

"That's not the _point_, dumbass."

"Then what _is_?" This time Maria remained silent and Quinn smirked to himself, missing the dark looks shot between the other fishermen. "What," he continued, "can't serve a meal and be a smart-assed _bruja_ at the same time?" Vision blurring, Quinn gasped for breath as Jake's face wavered before him. His head cracked against the wall between the stateroom doors as Jake leaned into a modified chokehold before Nick and Norman pulled the trembling deckhand off.

"Watch your _fucking_ mouth, you stupid _sonofabitch!_" Jake shouted as the shaken cameraman scrabbled away, rescuing his camera from beneath the galley table. Nick managed to pull Jake into the ready room and was quietly reminding Jake to breathe while Norman subtly placed himself between Maria and Quinn.

"Are you going to just let him get away with that? He fecking _attacked_ me!"

"As far as we're concerned, _you_ threw the first punch." Norman shrugged disinterestedly, turning away from Quinn and dismissing the matter in a single movement. Sig thundered down and glared around the corner at Quinn, shooting an angry look into the ready room and settling his glare on the unlucky Irishman.

"Quinn, if you can't keep your fucking mouth shut, I'm gonna shut it _for_ you." Holding up his hand to forestall Quinn's protests, Sig spoke over the man's sputtering. "Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear it. Whatever bullshit you're doing down here, stop it." Turning on his heel, he started up the stairs again.

"But-!" Quinn quickly put the galley counter between Sig and himself as the captain suddenly reappeared.

"If you say one more God damned word, you'll be _swimming_ back to Dutch…_in your fucking underwear!_" Sig returned to the wheelhouse more slowly than before, leaving his crew in an awkward silence. The silence hung heavy as Maria finished setting the table and everyone ate with their own thoughts. Mark came down as the crew was clearing the table and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Sig wants you in the wheelhouse on this next set of strings." Forestalling Quinn's protests by brushing past the cameraman, Mark dished himself a plate of food and took the seat vacated by Norman.

The crew silently busied themselves with donning their raingear, paying more attention to hoodies, zippers, and gloves than usual as Quinn skulked up the stairs. Grinning as Mark soon joined them out on deck, the previous four days' foul mood slowly dissipated as the crew debated the level of hell being dished out up in the wheelhouse. Five hours later, Quinn came out on deck and stood behind Mark's left shoulder. He watched Maria drop the table's last crab into the middle tank before hurrying over to the bait station, shouldering roughly past him in the process. Scowling darkly as she did it again on her way to jump into the pot, he opened his mouth to protest.

"Oy! Watch-!"

"Shut it, Quinn." Mark muttered. After a heartbeat, the producer shot a sidelong glance at Quinn, an eyebrow raised in mild surprise at the Irishman's reluctant obedience. "What do you want? I thought I told you to stay in the wheelhouse."

"He wants me out here instead. _I_ want me out here instead…" Quinn's camera remained cradled in his arms, eyes moving over everything at once. He shot Matt a dirty glare as the deckhand nudged Maria in the ribs and laughed.

"I think Sig finally put the fear of God into Quinn. You think he'll behave himself now?"

"No, I think Sig's just tired of having him around." Mark rolled his eyes with a snort before making his way into the wheelhouse. The moment his head cleared the staircase the producer heard Sig softly mutter, "Oh thank God."

Mark opened his mouth to ask the skipper how he thought Quinn was surviving the crew when Sig shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about that motherfucker right now. Ask me about anything but him." Mark nodded silently, though Sig couldn't see it.

"So, uh, I see Fish and Junior are still together. You think they'll last?"

The corners of Sig's mouth pulled down in a thoughtful frown before he shrugged absently. He checked the monitor where he saw Jake help Maria stand after she slipped on some bait, both laughing at something somebody said.

"I hope so. With all the shit both of them went through in the last couple years, they deserve something like what they have…" For the next fifteen hours, the session of Q & A continued off and on. Occasionally Sig offered interesting morsels of what was going on in his head, shedding light on the seeming madness to his decisions. On the deck below, Quinn had regained some of the color he'd lost during his short time in the wheelhouse. Although the list of questions he was itching to ask kept growing, he kept his mouth shut and chose to film the crew's actions in silence. His fair features were scrunched in a scowl as he observed the men's affection for Maria, whom the Irishman disliked with an intense passion. Once, when Mark asked him about his dislike for her, Quinn couldn't immediately come up with a good answer. Instead he'd lamely settled for "There's just something about her that makes my skin crawl. Something's off about her, but I can't lay my finger on it."

That response brought a laugh from the older man. Mark had mentioned that the only thing 'off' about Maria were her drug-dealing brother and cousins, but they were either dead or in jail…

Sudden shouting and movement from the corner of Quinn's eye brought his attention back to the present. Instinctively he swung the camera in front of his face as he stepped away from the hook flying towards his head. The metal picking hook glanced off the camera and he slipped on the wet deck, landing on his butt with a grunted curse. He watched wide-eyed as the hook swung wildly until Matt caught it. Once it was secured, Quinn stood on shaking knees and blankly returned dark glares.

"Wot?" Mousey brown brows furrowed as the crew grumbled; Maria scoffed and rolled her eyes, somehow managing to include her whole head in the movement as she stalked back to the bait station. A finger prodding his chest brought his attention to Edgar.

"Use your head, dipshit. You gotta pay attention out here, remember? We can't be babysitting you and saving your ass at every turn. Got it?"

Quinn opened his mouth to protest but quickly shut it again at the look in Edgar's eyes. Instead he lowered his gaze to the still filming camera in his hands and nodded his understanding as the deck boss repeated his question. With the crew returning to work, Quinn lifted the camera to his shoulder and grimaced at the sharp pain in his left wrist. Trying to ignore the pain, he filmed the crew in silent suffering until Sig relented at the end of the string thirty hours later. He filed in behind Norman and, with camera settled between his feet, shed his dripping raingear.

After Edgar joined his crew at the galley table, Quinn settled back amid the wet boots and studied his scarred camera. Manipulating the equipment, searching for the extent of damage, sent pain shooting through his wrist to his elbow and the stubborn man spent ten minutes tightlipped in silent endurance before someone kicked at his foot.

"_What?_" he bit out sharply and looked up. Maria stood there with a bag of frozen peas and a roll of ace bandages in hand. Her look reminded him of his mother's when he crossed her as a child, daring him to use that attitude with her again.

"I _was_ going to help wrap your wrist, but fuck that shit," she spat out and tossed the frozen peas at his face with more force than needed. Quinn deflected the peas with his right hand and resisted the urge to throw them at the back of her head.

"Look…oy! What's your problem? I've left you alone all _fecking _day and this is the thanks I get?" He growled, holding up the bandages that bounced off his face. He threw them back at Maria, where the landed in an unraveled mess at her feet. "Are you _always_ this fecking temperamental or is it just me?"

"Are you _always_ like this when someone tries to help you or is it just me?" Maria shot back angrily as she picked up the bandages, pointing at Quinn's wrist and added, "You better ice that before the peas thaw, dumbass." She whirled at Jake's soft tones and she bit back a venomous reply. Taking a deep breath, she stalked into the stateroom she shared with Jake, Matt, and Norman. It took all her self restraint to avoid spitting on Quinn as she passed before closing the door behind her.

"Don't tell me the big, strong fishing woman has gone to cry now?" Quinn sneered, then started as the bandages struck his face again. He flinched as the stateroom slammed shut once more.

"Don't start. You won't win. And she didn't go in there to cry." Norman said sharply.

"Then why-" Quinn started.

"She went in there to pray."

"Pray for _what?_" Quinn's brows furrowed in genuine curiosity as he absently put the peas on his wrist, rewarding himself with instant relief. Norman turned an unreadable look onto the belligerent Irishman and studied him a moment before answering.

"Herself, Sig, us," Norman gestured to the crew around the table, "the fleet. And believe it or not…you." Quinn snorted his disbelief, but the serious looks from the four men across the galley sobered him.

"She's praying for me. Why's…" Sig signaled the end of the break and Maria stalked out of the stateroom, stepped over Quinn's legs and geared up without looking at anyone. Quinn rose to return the peas to the freezer and when he returned to the ready room, he stopped Jake with a hand on his arm.

"Why's…Maria praying for me?" Quinn finished the question he started moments ago. Jake shrugged his hand off, pausing a second to respond.

"Why not?" He turned and walked out the hatch, leaving Quinn standing there, stunned.

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><p><strong>AN: Sorry again for the long delay, job hunting sucks sewer water and interferes with writing. But I'm back and soon Chapter 3 will be posted. Constructive criticsms are most welcome, as always. Original crew and boat are owned by themselves, while the story, scenarios, and fictional characters are my creations.**


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